Blast from the past

A little patch of my current home town.

I've posted before, here, about my thoughts on this place - Coolgardie, by which I really mean the general area and surrounding countryside - and its appeal. Which, to be fair, may be rather limited in some people's eyes, given it's a tiny little place on the edge of the desert.
But I love it here. Positively love it.
Despite having no history here, and it being on the opposite side of the country to my original home, I feel a connection to the place. And I'm pretty sure it's, in part, because it reminds me of my childhood. Visually and socially.
For example, the other day Paul and I went to pull down a shed. (No, I did not pull down a lot of sheds as a child, but bear with me).
We were doing the shed pulling-down thing because we are in the process of buying a house. A little house that sits on a huge block - they are all huge here - but which lacks the requisite man-cave. Fortunately, it does have an existing concrete slab of substantial dimensions - sorry, adequate dimensions, according to the man requiring the cave - on which to place a shed. Also fortunate was the fact our real estate agent needed to remove a hay shed from a horse block her hubby had been leasing and offered the iron and framework to us for a very reasonable price, providing we removed it.
This suited us, so on one of our recent work-free days we gathered our shed-dismantling gear and got to it.
And, to get to the point of the story, it was on the drive out when I felt a piece of my childhood return.
To clarify, I grew up in a pocket of western NSW where the ground is a rich red, the trees low and scrubby, the sky wide and bright and winter mornings crisp and sparkling. Unless they're foggy and damp, which is also somewhat romantic, provided they're experienced from a fire-side or within a deep, insulating coat.
I saw all this again that morning. Once more, I was driving down a country road of red dirt and pot holes, past stretches of grey-green shrubs huddling among the mist (as it was a foggy affair, rather than a sparkling one, that particular day), stopping to open a gate and breathing chill, fresh morning air.
There was even a piece of Tupperware containing a home-made cake on the back seat. Just like there always was when our family was out for the day.

The Tupperware in question. Who doesn't have a
childhood memory featuring Tupperware, really?

I had a very happy childhood out in 'the sticks'. And I have a very happy life here, out in the sticks. Which is occasionally made all the sweeter by these little blasts from the past. I may not have ever set foot in the place until about nine months ago, but I feel like I belong.

Would you believe I took this photo at the local tip one afternoon last week?
Does your tip look this pretty in the afternoon light?

Do you have a connection to a certain place? What aspects of your current home do you love? More importantly, do you have fond memories of Tupperware?

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